My Current Self Torture

I know most of you (if there is more than one) are fan(s) of John over at The Adventures of Daddy Runs A Lot, so you probably know about his zombie obsession. Despite my love for Zombieland, I don’t really share this fascination, especially since most modern zombie vehicles use an epidemic to depopulate the world. John and I often get into lengthy debates about this, and, yes, I know how that sounds. It’s dead muscle tissues. I don’t care how much the brain shoots out MOVE messages, that decaying, oxygen-deprived flesh is not responding. Originally, there was a magic element to zombies. To me, that is the only way zombies happen. Inferi are to be feared for realsies.

Excuse me for a moment while I get my embarrassment over that statement under control….

OK. Back.

All of that being said, I have let myself get dragged into The Walking Dead, AMC’s show about the exact kind of zombie Apocalypse I maintain can’t happen. It is in my head, People. There have been nightmares. There have been daydreams about how I would protect my family. I have opened the fridge and pantry and calculated how long we could hole up in the house. How many containers could I get filled with water before it’s shut off?

I have gotten so stressed out during an episode that I have had to go online to find out what happens before I can finish watching. Seriously. I know! Sad. I think that is why the show has gotten to me so much because it is really about family and keeping them safe. In the show, the danger is being eaten alive. Safe means running and shooting. In real life, the dangers are too numbered to count and safety comes in the form of car seats and bike helmets. On the show, the zombies just keep coming, and in life the dangers are always there. There are always new ones as the kids age, try new things, go new places, as the husband goes on earlier and earlier runs and longer and longer bike rides. If I am not careful, I will bury myself in the potential dangers of just getting out of bed in the morning. Sometimes, I start to go there and have to pep talk myself down. I don’t know about you, but I can take crisis scenarios to an obscenely detailed level in my head. The things I think when poor John is late.

The characters on The Walking Dead do not have the pinch yourself luxury as the dangers are not imagined, they are real (well, tv real). It says a lot about the human spirit that though survival is an immediate concern, the little society they have formed does still care about feelings and politeness (to a certain extent).

There are any number of shows and movies that use extreme circumstances to make a statement on the human condition. This one also scares me shitless, yet I keep watching. Because at least I’m not about to be eaten by a dead body that was once my neighbor.

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